


Steter Crack

by crashlea8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood Kink, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashlea8/pseuds/crashlea8
Summary: Witty Hogwarts professors,  snarky murder husbands, soulmates etc etc. The good ship Steter has no limitations and I'm entertaining my muse by exploring the stories as they come to me. Most of these will be drabbles and one shots but I may explore 1 or 2 in more depth .Enjoy!Crash xx





	1. The Hogwarts AU One Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts AU One

                Steter  Hogwarts drabble: 

Peter was a Herbology teacher at Hogwarts and Stiles had just taken up a temp job. Filling in for when teachers: get turned to dust, obliviated, blown up, revealed to be a malevolent imposters (even though the castle has super wards and protective magic?...), carried off by centaurs never to be seen again etc etc. You know  standard magic school stuff.

Stiles slapped his cheeks and bounced up and down on the balls of feet, trying to psych himself up to face the notorious ‘Big Bad Wolf’. This week he was filling in for the 3rd year potions teacher, whose skin had **_literally_** been melted off, and needed to secure some fresh ingredients for the next days practical class. The big bad wolf in question was one Professor Peter Hale, Head of the Herbology department and by all accounts a BAMF. Stiles had initially been sceptical. In his experience, herbology specialists were generally mellow folks who spent their free time sampling the greenery and eating too many cauldron cakes. His scepticism was broken down by numerous firsthand experiences from fellow teachers and students.

‘Peter Hale is flawless.’

‘I heard he has 2 Order of Merlins and a solid gold Firebolt.’

‘His chest hair is insured for 10,000 Galleons.’

‘I hear he does broom commercials.. In Japan.’

‘I heard he was a hit wizard for the ministry but he was too good at his job, so they retired him.’

‘One time, he met Gwenog Jones and she told him he was pretty.’

‘One time, he punched me in the face. It was awesome.’

Stiles shook those thoughts from his head and,  with his game face on, strode purposefully out the door. He passed through the outer courtyards to the detached building that served as Professor Hales office/ greenhouse/ strictly off limits to students unless you want to be eaten by malicious plants (or, eaten by the sharp toothed professor himself).

He found the outer door open so forewent the courtesy of knocking. His curiosity had not killed him yet, so naturally he poked around the office instead of politely waiting for Hale to return. The office (if you could call it that) was light and airy, especially when compared to the dank cold stone office in which Stiles himself currently resided. The walls were lined mainly with bookshelves; housing interesting artefacts, plants and thousands of texts, the shelves were interspersed with larger sculptures, paintings and potted plants. Looking up he saw an open mezzanine level which was dedicated to a number of plants  bathing in the light offered by the skylight. The skylight seemed to dominate this and the next room, which was partially visible to him through the foliage, and was clearly the reason for the abundance of natural light. Some of Stiles nervousness was put at ease by the comforting atmosphere. That would be his excuse in any case for approaching one of the plants and all but shoving his face in it to get a sniff at the unusual scent.

He was promptly yanked backwards and a smooth voice resonated in his ear. ‘There are better avenues to satisfy your masochistic desires than having your face torn off by a carnivorous plant.’

Stiles, not known for his grace, shrieked and flailed wildly. The man who stood behind him smirked as he dodged an offending limb.

Stiles clutched at his chest. ‘Dudewear a bell and  ..oh my god,  could that plant literally have torn off my face..?!” He started pinching at his cheeks as if to assure himself that they were intact.

Professor Hale visibly flinched at being called ‘dude', his prior amusement faded from his face to be replaced by a sneer. He crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

Stiles came to his senses. “Oh, ah, right. I’m Stiles, I’m taking Potions until Blaise’s skin grows back, but you know how vain he is, so that could be a while. Like honestly have you seen the potions  in his daily routine?”

Hale stuck out a hand impatiently in the middle of Stiles blathering. The younger man had only just been able to stop himself from reaching out to jovially shake it, realizing just in time that the outstretched hand was waiting on the list Stiles held.

“Ah, right.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as he handed over the parchment. “Here’s the list of ingredients I was told I’d need for tomorrows class.”

The sneer Hale held sharpened and he raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Teaching potions and you can’t even correctly identify chamomile over something that could eat you face? Tsk tsk.”

 

‘Huh?! Chamomile?!!’

 

Ignoring Stiles comedic double taking, the Herbology professor hmmed thoughtfully over the  list he held.

‘It will take a while to get the correct measurements. You’re welcome to wait here, provided you don’t attempt to touch anything else.”

 

 Stiles pouted as he briefly met the mans gaze over the parchment, promptly shifting his gaze elsewhere to avoid the penetrating blue.

“ And Stiles, don’t believe everything you’re told.” He throws over his shoulder whilst carelessly waving his wand to conjure up a  pot of tea and  two cups.

Stiles closed his agape mouth as Hale sauntered off, he wasn’t able to come up with a witty quip while the other man was still in earshot so he settled with muttering ‘..show off..’ under his breath.

The tea set in front of him appeared to be floating on nothingness. “ Shit!” Stiles fumbled for his school mandated wand as he came to the conclusion that, yes, Professor Hale was indeed enough of an asshole to make the levitation charm extra temporary. He retrieved his wand just in time to catch the china as it began a perilous descent towards the rustic hardwood floor.

 

‘Pheww,’ he wiped his forehead in relief as he guided the set safely to a nearby desk.

 ‘Asshole.’ He griped, setting a derisive gaze on the glorified stick he was forced to carry whilst working on school grounds. Stiles preferred a less archaic magical conduit, something that couldn’t be torn away by a spell, something wearable that he could have on him without having to fumble through layers of robes. It only took seconds for someone to cast a spell that could end in death and in those seconds reaching for a wand was time no one could afford. Stiles had developed himself (with the help of his old school friend Danny and an amenable dwarf who had a stockpile of magical ores, cores and sundry materials) a modified glove/ bracer that could comfortably be worn at all times. Due to it’s position it had ready access to his magic and could be activated immediately. He felt naked without it and though spilt tea wasn’t life or death, Stiles definitely felt it was possible to die of embarrassment and quite frankly he did not want to give Hale the satisfaction.

 

Well that had been an interesting encounter and Stiles nerves were appropriately frayed. This whole situation made him feel that he was entirely deserving of helping himself to the other man's chamomile. Smugly (and spitefully) he plucked some flowers and a few young leaves, crushing them slightly before setting them to brew in his freshly poured cup. 

 

…………….

After successfully securing all of Stiles ingredients Peter returned.  He was not at all surprised to find a drooling Stiles completely lax and clearly unconscious, half fallen out of his chair. He tutted in disappointment but was clearly amused as he approached the desk where the younger man was now slowly sliding to the floor. 

 

Stepping over lithe legs he inspected the tea cup, sure enough it contained the “chamomile”, which was in fact a magically spliced Valerian, Poppy and Aconite hybrid.

 

Peter had developed it as a method to treat anxiety in Werewolves. His early research had shown that members of the lycanthrope community were twice as likely as regular humans or wizards to suffer from mental health issues in their lifetimes and comparatively were also twice as unlikely to seek professional assistance. Creating a treatment that takes into account the metabolisation and regeneration rates of werewolves was one step in the right direction. The main issue to still be addressed though was the societal stigma towards lycanthropes and mental health sufferers.

 

The plants less desirable effects (digestive discomfort and well, horrible death inducing poisons) had been removed but still, what worked as a sedative for werewolves, caused immediate unconsciousness  in anyone else.* Exhibit A: Professor ~~Twunk~~  Stiles

 

Peter sighed at his melancholic thoughts and drew his gaze towards the young substitute teacher. His eyes crinkled in amusement at the undignified position he found him in. He laughed softly but brought the splayed legs together and hefted Stiles up to settle more comfortably on a transfigured couch.

 

 

 

Yell at me in the comments, on my  [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crash-fics) or at crashreads@gmail.com

 

 


	2. The Soulmate tattoo one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soulmate Tattoo One - Part 1

Scott and Stiles were hanging out Scott’s ,when IT happened.

  
It was the first time the Sheriff and Melissa had decided they were old enough to babysit themselves, but Melissa didn’t trust Scott not to burn the house down trying to make toast and the Sheriff didn’t trust that Stiles wouldn’t get stuck into his cold cases and go off in the night trying to find dead bodies. So it was decided they would babysit each other.

On this fateful night the boys had nothing more mischievous planned than playing some GTA and eating too much junk food. Stiles had just downed his 2nd energy drink when he felt that something was off, like way off and oh god !

  
‘Something is terribly terribly wrong!’ He bolted upright and ran to the bathroom clutching his bottom.

  
Scott who had been sitting next to him was startled at first but began laughing when he saw Stiles running off holding his rear. ‘Dude I told you! Too many energy drinks will give you the squirts,’ Scott called in the direction of the bathroom before returning to his game.

  
‘SCOTTTY! OH MY GOD ….THIS IS … WHAT?! GET IN HERE, YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS’

  
‘No way man, I don’t want to look. I don’t care how much you think it looks like Jesus.’

  
Stiles poked his head out, he looked shaken up. ‘ I think our parents are going to kill us.’

  
Scott frowned and paused his game. Warily standing up and making his way to his friend he responded, ‘whatever it is you’ve done in there it’s on you.’

When he got close enough Stiles yanked him through the doorway and into the bathroom. He ushered Scott over to the toilet, which, Scott was happy to note was mercifully was empty. On Stiles’ prompting he perched on the closed lid, if only to placate his distressed friend.

  
Stiles ran a hand through his shorn hair and released a shuddering breath. ‘Prepare yourself Scotty, what you’re about to witness may shock you.’

Scott started to scoff at this until Stiles turned his back and began pulling down his pants.

  
‘What the fuck dude!’ Scott exclaimed slapping a hand over his eyes. ‘I have seen your bare ass one too many times already, put it away!’

  
‘No seriously, just look.’

  
The pleading tone in Stiles voice made him relent. Scott opened his fingers and took a peek. The peek turned into an open-mouthed gape at what he found before him. ‘ You.. wha.. WHY DO YOU HAVE A FREAKIN TATTOO ON YOUR ASS??!’

  
Stiles nodded forlornly and shifted so that he was looking his shoulder in the direction of bathroom mirror. The mirror which reflected back at him a slightly red triskele on his right butt cheek.

~~~~~

It was a couple of months after the boys swore their oath of secrecy, so as not to get their asses kicked by their parents, that Stiles bounded up to Scott and proclaimed, ‘Scotty we’re going to become sports guys!’

  
Scott blinked at him stupidly, pausing for an overly long time before replying . ‘Sports guys?.... You realise I’m asthmatic right?’

  
This prompted a rant about Stiles months long research binge; into how, why and what his tattoo was.

‘A magic Soulmate mark?’

  
‘Uh-huh.’

  
‘And you’ll know who your soulmate is, when they touch your tattoo?’

  
‘Yep’

  
‘How will you know?’

  
‘Everything I read just said… You’ll know… like having a magical mysterious soul tattoo wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass..’ Stiles side eyed his friend, ready to be applauded for his wit.

...

It didn’t come.

 

 ‘Get it…pain in the ass? Dude it’s funny!’ He insisted punching Scott on the arm to punctuate his point.

  
Scott hmmed noncommittally, making Stiles pull an affronted expression. ‘Right,’ Scott started, trying to get it all straight in his head. ‘ So, you have a magic soulmate tattoo of a weird symbol’

  
‘A triskele,’ Stiles interjected.

  
Scott huffed in amusement and began again. 'So you have a tattoo of a weird symbol..’

  
Stiles shrugged, ‘fine, I’ll allow it.”

  
‘And when this weird symbol is touched by your soulmate.. “you’ll just know” ..’ Scott looked to his friend, receiving a nod of affirmation. ‘Ok, so this leads you to the conclusion that we need to become sports guys how?’

Stiles’ grin widened and he turned Scott so that they were standing face to face. ‘I’m glad you asked!’ He stepped back and made a dramatic sweeping gesture to the space behind him.In this space the dark eyed boy could see jocks of various disciplines, all looking at them as if they were crazy. ‘Behold! Sports guys! An entire culture practically born from the masculine touching of one another’s butts.’ He added a sly wink, ‘in camaraderie, obviously’

Scott’s face held a look of resignation. “ Right, sports and butt touching. Of course.” He sighed wearily. ‘ So, what kind of sports guys are we gonna be?’


	3. The Hogwarts AU One Part 2

Stiles had woken up alone, shrieking like a banshee with a note magically glued to his forehead. From that moment it was on, oh it was very much on.

Stiles grit his teeth even recalling the “incident” in which he had been roofied and god knows what else by that sexy psychopath Hale.

Once he had unstuck the note from his head (which took brute force rather than any finessing of magic and thus left quite an impressive red mark) it had read below.

“Dear Professor … Stiles.

I sincerely hope you had an enjoyable nap. In the future however, I would very much appreciate if you 1) would have the decorum not to drool on my belongings – I doubt my armchair will ever be the same- and 2) have the foresight to pack your bed and pillow. Luckily for you I happen to be quite accomplished in the art of transfiguration. I trust my bag of Thestrel Manure provided a comfortable platform on which to sleep? By the way upon reading this letter it will return to its former state.

*Stiles wits were not quite about him at this point, so unfortunately he was still seated upon the couch as it became a bag of fertiliser. The unpleasant sensation of falling, coupled with the indignity of landing rump first on a bag of shit (which promptly split under the sudden pressure) was more than enough to fuel Stiles ire. Ire which manifested itself in a dastardly desire for revenge. *

As you were incapacitated, I took the liberty of having the potions stock delivered to your classroom.

 

Warmest regards

Peter Hale”

 

Stiles received a small amount of satisfaction in leaving a trail of pungent fertiliser in his wake as he stalked out of the evil maniacs office.

 

 


	4. The Soulmate Tattoo One - Part 2

And so Scott & Stiles were bench warming in Lacrosse, slapping butts and stick checking bitches, until by some freaking apocalyptic nightmare/ miracle- depending on the persoectuve-, Scott gets turned into a werewolf and Derek Hale gets thrown into their life.

Stiles first saw Derek’s Triskele tatt at the vet clinic after the man was shot by Allison's crazy Aunt and was literally dying of aconite poisoning….

  
Derek staggered through the door into the clinic, hitting the wall as he tried to yank his shirt off to get a better look at his injury. His unclothed back was bared to Stiles for the first time and _OHMYEFFInG TiNY Baby JeebAS._

‘Stiles.. I’m literally dying, stop blabbering about my tattoo, come over here and help me cut my fucking arm off!”

  
_OH MY SUITE LIFE OF ZACH &CODY HE HAS A TRISKELE… FUCK.. CALM…Is it like for Soulmates..is it a normal tattoo, is there a significant connection to my tattoo? I’m sure I’ve touched his back while I’ve been hauling his wolfy ass around. MUST GET DEREK TO TOUCH MY BUTT._

‘STILES.FUCK!’

  
Stiles jolted out of his reverie and approached the operating table where Derek promptly slid a bone saw towards him from the opposite side. The younger man gaped down at the tool and back up at Derek, who was now attempting to tourniquette his arm. _Guh_.

  
Stiles picked up the saw and switched it on, ‘ OH MY GOD,’ promptly dropping it back down again. He took a deep breath to fortify himself, ’what if you bleed to death?!’

  
‘It’ll heal if it works.’

  
Nauseated Stiles watched as Derek tightened the tourniquette on his affected arm with his teeth, gripping the table in an attempt to remain upright.

  
‘Look… I don’t know if I can do this.’ He gulps as Derek’s veins steadily grow blacker, creeping up his arm from where the bullet hit him.

‘Why not?!’ Derek barked out , frustrated.

‘Well because of the cutting of the flesh, the sawing of the bones and especially the blood.’ Blood is emphasised in with a high pitched panicked note in Stiles voice.

  
‘You faint at the sight of blood?!’

  
‘No. But I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!!’

  
Derek bared his teeth disdainfully at that  and huffed out a breath of annoyance. ’Alright fine,’ he looks down at the table then slowly back up at Stiles glaring threateningly. ‘Either you cut off my arm, or I’m gonna cut off your head!’

  
‘Okay you know what, I’m so not buying your threats anymore.’. At which point Derek reached across the table with his good arm and yanked Stiles by his collar over the steel table towards him until his throat was in biting distance of Derek’s teeth.

‘Oh my god! Okay, alright, bought sold totally . I’ll do it. I’ll do it. What? .. What are you doing?’ Derek had started wobbling unsteadily and his grip on Stiles loosened. He tilted his head slight to the side and promptly vomited up copious amounts of ominous black goo. ‘ Holy god! What the hell is that?!’

After vomiting, Derek lay over the table, weakened. And answered, 'my body trying to heal itself.’

Holding back the need to vomit himself Stiles gritted his teeth and attempted to avoid breathing in through his nose. ’Well, it’s not doing a very good job of it.’

  
‘Now,’ Derek pleaded, panting, ‘you gotta do it now.’

  
‘Look honestly, I don’t think I can.’

  
‘JUST DO IT!’

  
‘Oh my GOD! Okay! Oh my god.’ Stiles sacked up and held the bone saw up against Derek’s arm. 'Alright here we go!'

There was a noise outside of the operating room and a muffled ‘ Stiles?’ Reached his ears.

The whiskey eyed teen looked around hopefully, ‘Scott?!’

Scott entered the room taking in the situation; his pale faced best friend clutching a bone saw for dear life against Derek’s arm. Derek who was possibly dead, definitely shirtless and lying facedown on a veterinary operating table above a disgusting pile of black goop. ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?’

  
The air escaped Stiles in a hysterical rush and he abandoned the bone saw. ‘Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares!’

......

  
The trauma of Derek almost dying took it’s toll on both of the younger men and it’s only after the heinous ordeal that Scott Wide eyed turned to his friend . ‘DUDE! Derek has your tattoo!!’

  
Exhausted Stiles nodded sagely in response, ‘yup, he’s gonna touch my butt.’

……

Weekes of planning had Stiles putting into practice numerous strategies for enabling the touching of Stiles butt (by Sourwolf) in a totally casual, everyday setting without malicious coercion and with flexible consent. It was a working title.

  
After the plotting Stiles felt more like himself but something still niggled at him.

  
Almost immediately after the unfortunate incident Derek attempted to pull Scott’s head from out of his own ass in regards to the Argents and Stiles was all for it. That crazy Kate bitch had been the cause of Stiles almost having to cut someones arm off. Caution, wariness and constant vigilance were called for, not Scott’s blind faith and naivety. Stiles didn’t tag along on their little excursion / origin story, but, apparently Derek had taken Scott to see his “cautionary tale” Uncle. The sole survivor of the fire the killed Derek’s family, werewolf and human relatives alike and it was the Argent’s fault.

Scott made it seem like the man had been in Beacon Hills alone for all this time and that this was the first time Derek had been back to see him since he and Laura left. Yes, okay, Stiles can objectively argue both sides to a point. Yes, Laura and Derek had to get the fuck out of dodge but why didn’t they take their uncle with them? From what he understood about werewolves and wolves in general, they thrive better in a pack environment. Possibly they left him to make the Hales seem unthreatening should hunters come poke around but surely they could have come back sniffed around for the Argents and taken him once the embers had settled? Maybe Stiles was taking this a little personal but it hit close to home. He used to bust out of school when he was just a kid, to take the public bus to see his mother in the hospital because he didnt want her to be alone. Sure, his dad got time off to sit with her but he still had to work to pay for the hospital bills and the hospital was no place for someone who had been as bright and bubbly as his mother. Sure sometimes she didn’t recognise him or got violent but at least she wasn’t alone in the sterile environment.

Scott in his typical self-absorbed way had glossed over the uncle and proceeded to talk about how this would affect Scott & Allison. Stiles had grunted in response to Scott which was all the boy needed to hear -it’s not like he would listen to what Stiles had to say anyway- and continued to think about the man abandoned by his family.

  
Sitting alone in his room Stiles punched fist to palm and resolved to find out more about Derek’s Uncl and the Hale Fire

His research led him to sign into Beacons Crossing Home under the name of I.N Hale. Honestly Stiles was shook, there was no security to enter the car park or the facility itself, just a stern nurse that manned the sign in sheet and said that only immediately family was allowed to visit. Putting down I.N Hale was apparently sufficient even though Stiles had done his due diligence and had a fake ID with the name made as well as a library card as back up. This place was slack and he told peter as much as he sat opposite the man and vented about the security and humans in general. He kept up a constant stream of chatter. Sometimes pacing, sometimes lounging upside down on Peter’s bad while the man sat in his wheelchair.

  
He’d done research on catatonic and comatose states previously as his mother suffered them infrequently during her illness and figured the former was more applicable to Derek’s uncle but who could really say for sure when it came to werewolves and the altered regeneration and metabolism. In any case though a catatonic stupor sufferer wouldn’t typically respond to stimuli, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t physically see or hear. Stiles knew that he himself would have died of boredom if he was in contact with no-one but medical staff for 6 whole years and he himself was almost senseless in that impersonal cell that was Peter’s room. He spoke to an orderly and found out personal affects were definitely allowed. So he kept talking, brought in a radio with blue tooth and played podcasts for the man. Gleefully he also found and misappropriated a motivational poster from the school, it read hang in there with a picture of a kitten hanging from a branch. ‘ Classic!’ Stiles almost laughed himself sick when he put it up and imagined that Peter rolled his eyes at him.

He kept visiting Peter, kept researching the Hale Fire & the Argents ,as well as werewolf lore in general. He also put some of his butt touching plans for Derek into action and was thwarted at every turn.

  
One such plan panned out like such….

  
One night, while the Sheriff was at work, Stiles ordered a stack of pizzas to his house while he, Derek and Scott had werewolf school, researched the Argents and plotted on how to catch the Alpha.  
He bolted down the stairs and practically yanked the boxes from the delivery boy so his hands were full, conveniently leaving him unable to reach his wallet, located in his back pocket * wink wink*.

  
‘DEREK!’ The wolf appeared at the top of the stairs but looked less than happy about it. ‘ My hands are full, can you grab my wallet out of my back pocket?’

  
The wolf rolled his eyes and with some effort walked down the stairs at a human pace, rather than jumping the railing as he normally did. Stiles pulse thundered as the wolf got close causing Derek to raise a brow at him curiously… yes just a little closer…come on .. no!

Derek had stepped around Stiles, unrolled a thick wad of cash from inside his jacket and tipped the pizza guy generously. He shut the door and turned to face the younger man who was looking, frankly, a bit stupid, as he opened and shut his mouth a few times. Derek raised his eye brows and grinned menacingly, ‘you’re welcome Stiles,’ before he grabbed the pizza boxes and leapt with them to the top of the stairs.

  
Stiles huffed and stomped up the stairs after him.  'Yeah yeah, thanks Sourwolf.’ Stupid Derek he may act like a dick but he was really just a grumpy lil marshmallow. Stiles would have to factor that into his new plan.

 


	5. The Porn Without Plot One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be blood and violence, so if that's not your thing...maybe skip this one. Sexy times heyooooooo.
> 
> *I'll probably come back and fix some of the mistakes but I wanted to get it out to you sexy folks for the weekend.

Peter growls and slams Stiles against the wall, holding him in place with a hand around the young mans slender throat. Small beads of red blossom under the claws he has extended as an extra incentive for the young man to behave. He catches a scent of the blood and it intoxicates him briefly; the complex notes and the zing of Stiles power making a robust bouquet. Peter's mouth is practically watering. Stiles utilises this moment of preoccupation to grab the dagger hidden at his belt and plunge it into his aggressors abdomen. The dagger billows over with red as a small gush bursts forth from the wound over Stiles fingers. To Peter's surprise the boy doesn’t recoil in disgust, he merely takes his hand from the hilt and surveys the injury with morbid satisfaction before glaring at the wolf.

  
‘I didn’t actually come in here to argue you know.’

  
Peter can barely get a grip on himself. Throbbing pain resonates around the knife, a delicious agony, made even sweeter by the sensation of his body trying to regenerate over and over but recoiling repeatedly from the dagger. Which he notes with fascination is made entirely of mountain ash, save for the leather bound hilt covered in runes.   
"So, you carried a mountain ash knife here and stabbed me with it, because you didn’t want to argue?" He leaves the knife in place, though he easily could’ve yanked it out by the leather handle with his free hand. His heart rate starts picking up as his blood spills and regenerates, causing his body to go start going into shock. The hand around Stiles throat loosens its grip slightly but the taller man doesn't try to get free.

"Yes, If I had have been coming here to argue I would've poisoned the blade and stabbed you in the dick. I'm here to negotiate." Even in "dire straits" he talks with his hands, the gestures emphasizing his words as if he wasn't pressed up against wall, frustrated he runs an errant hand down his face. Unfortunately it was the hand covered in Peter's blood and it leaves an enticing trail of crimson that looks almost like war paint. The sight of Stiles pale face painted in Peters blood makes the wolf growl bodily, the blood he has left pools in his groin.

  
Peter hadn't lost control once in this encounter but now he saw the bright blue of his wolf eyes unwittingly refracting back at him as he looked into defiant amber eyes. Regrouping Peter smirks showing sharp teeth in a predatory display.

  
"Lucky me," he drawls, removing his hand from the pale expanse of Stiles neck and crowding the boy forcefully against the wall with his body, the dagger in his gut the last point of contact between them. Peter breathes heavily and rolls his body against Stiles lithe form, slowly pressing the dagger deeper into himself using the other mans’ body. He’s almost gasping for breath by the time they're firmly pressed together, his crotch practically riding Stiles thigh. He purposefully grinds into the sensation, causing the young man to punch out a shakey moan before he’s grabbing Peter by the hair and forcefully yanking his mouth to his own. The wolf catches a taste of his own blood on Stiles lips from where he’d wiped his face. He chases the taste with his tongue before twining it greedily with Stiles own. Long slender fingers scratch hard from Peter's scalp -yanking his hair in the process and earning a pleased moan- down his back, to his ass. He grabs firmly and pulls Peter even closer until there's gratifying friction against his cock. The wolf breaks the kiss to gasp out sharply as a fresh rush of blood spurts from his wound after being roughly jolted by Stiles movements. ‘Fuck, ahh, yes.’

  
Stiles uses this opportunity to grab the man and reverse their position but instead of facing him Peter's face is pressed into the scratchy brick.  
Stiles leans over the broad back before him, his erection straining against the clothed globes of Peter's ass, he groans loudly at the sensation leaning over the wolf until his lips are at his ear.   
"Fuck you feel so fucking good Peter I just want to tear you apart."

  
One of his hands is gathered in Peter's short hair pressing him into the wall, thhe other slowly slides over his stomach, enjoying the warmth of the liquid under its fingers, occasionally gathering it with the wolfs shirt and squeezing it into his fist. When he comes to the knife he twists it slightly before yanking it out.

  
He leans away from Peter’s ear and makes sure the wolf can see him as he licks the bloody knife. Peter’s eyes glow brightly and he groans as if he’s been punched. Stiles grips the knife in his hand and slicks his palms with the blood. He uses the knife then to crudely tear into Peter’s shirt, being made of wood it’s not the sharpest but Stiles wields it with force not caring that slices into the wolfs back. He tears the shirt off exposing the slices in the other mans flesh, he runs a hand reverently over them, watching as the skin knits back together. He releases his grip on Peters hair and with the knife at his throat orders him to turn around. The wolf complies and Stiles steps back. He surveys the man in front of him ; the abdomen still slick with blood , chest heaving with his rough breaths, pupils dilated in bright blue glowing eyes.

  
‘Take off your pants.’

  
Peter gains back some bravado. ‘My, my, you are as skilled negotiator. What do I get in return?’

  
Stiles lips quirk and he takes a step forward twirling the dagger. He circles one of the wolfs pebbled nipples with it ‘ Fine, I’ll take off your pants but then you need to get on your knees. Negotiation is all about compromise.’ Stiles doesn’t wait for Peters permission he pulls him closer with a finger through one of his belt loops and proceeds to unbutton his pants. It’s when he’s pushing them down muscled thighs that he notices Peter is wearing Spider-Man briefs, his eyes widen but he chooses not to say anything. Peter unseen to the boy is smirking above his head but quickly loses composure when stiles yanks down his briefs as well and a hot mouth is devouring his cock. He reflexively reaches down to put his hands on Stiles head but is quickly stopped by a knife to his taint and Stiles tutting in admonishment.

  
‘Uh-uh-uh.’ He unfolds himself from the ground and stands over the wolf, using his height to his advantage .’You’re turn Zombie wolf’. His gaze roams appreciatively over the wolf, the wide chest tapering down to a narrower waist, with muscled thighs framing his thick cock

  
Peter narrows his eyes, he loathes that nickname and muttersmainly to himself, ‘ that was one time..maybe two.’ He drops to his knees in front of the younger man and reaches to undo his jeans but is stopped by a knife .

  
‘No touching, hands by your side.’ Peter complies and Stiles smiles approvingly, ‘there’s a good boy.’ He pulls his zipper to the side and feeds his erection through the hole. ‘Open wide.’

  
Peters eyes glow again and he makes his mouth a welcoming O with no complaint. He groans lowly around Stiles circumcised dick as it breaches his lips and rests against his tongue. He can’t restrain himself for much longer and he knows Stiles is aware of this.

  
Amber eyes twinkle in amusement at the wolf whose pleading eyes look up at him, mouth prettily spread around his member. ‘Okay, you can suck now.’

  
Peter breathes out through his nose in relief when Stiles finally gives him permission to suck. He instantly surges forward, bringing Stiles to the back of his throat until his nose is buried in the delicious musk of his pubic hair. Peter gathers saliva under his tongue and pulls back until the head is at his lips.He slaves Stiles cock with his spit and curls his tongue around the delicious head before beginning to bob and suck in earnest. Stiles groans and mutters pretty words under his breath as the wolf pleasures him.

He lets Peter do as will, noting with satisfaction that he has not moved his hands from his sides. He grips the mans hair with one hand and with his other uses the dagger to slice lightly over the wolfs neck ,which Peter bares in submission as much as he can with Stiles dick still ensconced in his mouth.

‘Beautiful,’ Stiles breathes in awe. ‘ You can use your hands now.’

Peter moans and grips Stiles dick with one hand to aid his technique and curls the other behind himself reaching between his cheeks to breach himself dry.

  
‘Jesus.’ Stiles chokes out as he watches Peter fuck himself on his fingers and fist Stiles cock into his mouth. He moves his hand gripping the older mans hair to tenderly caress his face, pressing his thumb harshly into the stubbled cheek to feel himself inside Peters mouth. He thrusts jerkily into Peters mouth and the man removes his hand wrapped around Stiles dick to make it easier for him.

Peter continues fucking into himself with his fingers and presses his free hand against the one Stiles holds to his cheek. Encouraging the younger man to press harder he digs into his own cheek, extending a wolfy nail he creates a line of red.

  
‘Fucking hell,’ Stiles mutters, increasing his tempo until Peter is slightly choking. He brings the dagger down on him again and red splashes across his hand and unto the floor. Peter jerks violently and growls, extricating himself from Stiles grip before pulling the mans legs out from under him, making sure to catch him before he brains himself on the concrete in typical Stiles fashion. He moves over the young man until he’s straddling him, hand pressed into his shoulder to pin him down. He can’t hold himself back any more and growls into the smirking face beneath him. He devours the devilish mouth until lithe arms wrap around him, clawing at his back. Peter arches into the touch and moans into Stiles mouth not caring that he’s rutting shamelessly against Stiles clothed body. With effort he pulls away and sneers into Stiles slightly dazed face before reaching back and impaling himself on the long dick still slick with Peters own spit.

‘Oh my fucking werewolf zombie jesus!’

  
Peter snarls and digs sharp claws into Stiles chest, tearing his shirt in response. Stiles can’t even think of a witty retort or complain because Peter has started riding him in earnest. He grips the wolfs hips, dagger clattering to the floor, it’s all he can do to hold on for dear life as the solid body on top of him thoroughly fucks the life out him. The slightly harsh friction of Peters rim tugging on Stiles cockhead as he raises himself up and slams back down drives Stiles wild. He bends his knees and plants his feet on the floor contributing an upwards thrust each time Peter bottoms out, his balls smacking harshly onto Stiles jeans.

  
This only serves to egg him on, Peter changes positions slightly bending down to kiss and nip at Stiles lips. Their ragged breaths intermingle as he grinds his hips frantically, the teeth of Stiles zipper catching against him every so often almost causing him to yelp.

  
‘ Fuck, Peter I’m going to cum.’ Stiles grip shifts to Peters ass, harshly digging into the globes. The wolf picks up his pace, his face turns into the young mans neck, breathing in his scent with each ragged pant. There is a symphony of pain and pleasure resonating through Peter : the harsh concrete scrapes against his knees, Stiles fingernails create delicious pricks of pain and with the coarse friction of his jeans and the teeth of his zipper scratching against Peters untouched cock he’s at his peak. His grunts of pleasure are muffled by Stiles throat as he presses his cock into Stiles belly and shoots ropes of cum into his shirt. His body clenches in his bliss, his ass like a vice on Stiles cock pulling the younger man over the edge with him.

  
Stiles fingernails press bloody crescent moons into firm flesh as he cries out, burying himself deep within the wolf in his release.

 

  
Peter recovers quickly and lays lax and satiated over the young man beneath him who is still panting harshly, his dick twitching wetly inside wolf. He waits until Stiles heart rate slows and his cock softens before he raises himself slightly and tenderly caresses the mans flushed cheek, leaning in to kiss him softly. Plump lips move warmly against his own and when he withdraws Stiles eyes are gleaming with affectionate amusement.

  
‘You were wearing my underwear.’

  
Peter huffed a laugh and grinned cheekily ‘Guilty, I wanted to see if it would throw you off your game.’

  
‘Rude,’ Stiles pouts.

  
‘The mountain ash knife was a stroke of genius by the way. Shockingly painful, it was delicious.’

  
Stiles smiles ‘You’re welcome, designed it myself. Of course, I didn’t have this specific scenario in mind. Maybe I should make a mountain ash dildo.’ He wiggles his brows.

  
‘ Don’t tempt me,’ Peter growls leaning in to kiss him again withdrawing with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Actually do, it is my birthday soon.’

  
‘Noted.’ Stiles caresses Peters sides relaxing as much as he can against the concrete. He frowns slightly ‘ I thought you wanted me to take you wolfy style?'

  
‘Please never call it that again, ‘ Peter cringes, rolling his eyes. ‘I thought about it while your cock was cleaning my tonsils, concrete really isn’t very good for delicate human knees and knee pads are not sexy.’

  
Stiles starts to scoff indignantly but ends up flushing pleased at Peters consideration towards him.‘Thanks.’

  
Peter winks at him, ‘so what was it you actually wanted to negotiate for?’

  
‘Oh, dude I almost forgot! Can we please get Vietnamese tonight? I know you hate coriander but we can order without, I already checked in with them.’

  
‘Anything for you sweetheart.’ The werewolf murmurs against Stiles lips.


End file.
